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Tuesday, 18 December 2012

This will be my last post of 2012. I need to move away from the computer and make mince pies with cheesy Christmas tunes as the soundtrack.

Whilst researching The Painting over the past few months, I've learnt a great deal about the late eighteenth century, both here and in Italy. Now I can step into that world with more confidence.

I've found that researching daily life and past events wasn't enough. I also needed to look at vocabulary and the way of speaking. The task of writing prose for historical fiction could be compared to writing in a different language or dialect (previous post: Do you use dialect or other languages in your writing?). Peppering the text with words and phrases from that time will hopefully give the writing authenticity without making it difficult to read: eg. she was 'fatigued' or she was 'melancholy' and 'he was a worthy character'.

Thursday, 13 December 2012

I've talked about Stephen King's book, 'On Writing' a few times recently, but I thought this point was worth mentioning.

He says:

'I think that every novelist has a single ideal reader; that at various points during the composition of a story, the writer is thinking, 'I wonder what he/she will think when he/she reads this part?''

Stephen King's ideal reader is his wife. This made me think 'Who is mine?' (and luckily for my husband it isn't him!)

Whilst considering this question during a pilates class the other day (trying to remove a few pounds so I can put then back on again at Christmas), I pictured my ideal reader for The Grandson: A woman who has a passion for Italy. She goes on holiday there/ lives there/ has lived there or wants to go there. This woman may also have an interest in the themes I mentioned in a recent post: Do you have anything to say?. Of course The Grandson isn't only directed at my ideal reader. This reader is the person I've been subconsciously aiming to please as I wrote it.

If I had to name a specific person, I'd say my ideal reader is my late mother.

Who is your ideal reader?

It's less than two weeks until Christmas. I still have cards to write, presents to sort out and did I mention that we're hosting for eighteen this year? I've defrosted the freezer, located our Michael Bublé Christmas CD and I'm really looking forward to spending time with family. Hope your preparations for Christmas are going well.

Thursday, 6 December 2012

My Twitter friend and fellow blogger, Stacey Mitchell has tagged me for the You've Got the Look Meme. Thank you so much Stacey!

This meme asks that you go to your current WIP, find the word ‘look’, and post surrounding paragraphs. Then tag 5 more people to do the same.

I've copied and pasted a bit from Chapter 1 of The Grandson.

Jessica didn’t like the way Alessandro spoke to her, but she put it down to tiredness. She went into the kitchen and put the coffeemaker on the hob, lighting the gas with a match. Whilst pouring a glass of water from the fridge, she wondered how long he was going to be in Siena and what had happened to make his mother emigrate to America. He wasn't in the mood to be asked questions and she didn't want to come across as being nosy. The idea of going back into the lounge made her feel anxious, her nerves heightened by the heat and she turned on the cold tap, holding her wrists under the water to cool herself down.
The coffeemaker gurgled and she filled two espresso cups, stirring sugar into his. She carried the drinks in on a tray and handed him the thimble-like cup which looked tiny in his large hands. He muttered 'thanks' and knocked it back. Holding her espresso, she perched on the edge of the chaise longue by the window. His presence made her feel awkward and she didn't know what to say. As she watched the long hand move around the clock on the wall, its ticking punctuating the silence, she considered making an excuse to leave the room.
Alessandro pointed at the painting of Sophia’s late husband which hung above the fireplace.
‘Is that Giorgio?’
Grateful that he'd brought up a subject to talk about, Jessica said,
‘Yes, your grandfather?’
He nodded.
‘He did that one himself,’ she said. ‘I take it you haven’t been here before?’
He studied the painting of the distinguished man with crisp white hair and a roman nose.
‘This is my first time in Italy.’
His eyes glazed over and it was clear that the self-portrait moved him. She was tempted to ask why his mother had moved to America, but she decided against it.
‘It’s been a tough day I expect?’ she said.

About Me

Writer and Freelance Social Media Manager with clients in the world of books. Used to work in the City, as manager to a structured derivatives documentation team. Studied French and Italian at university and lived in Siena, Italy. Writer of historical fiction set in 18thc Venice and English country houses. Short story, The Reminiscence Tea highly commended in Feb 2017 issue of Writers' Forum magazine. Associate Member of the Romantic Novelists' Association. Former Social Media Manager for the Historical Novel Society (Aug 2014- 4 Sept 2016) and Publicity Officer for #HNSOxford16. Find out more via my website: www.neetsmarketing.com